


The Diary of Someone Who Might

by sarcastictrash



Series: Diaries and ramblings [1]
Category: No Fandom
Genre: Gen, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7864660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcastictrash/pseuds/sarcastictrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simple as the title, really. My diary. Or whatever come out of my mouth. You'll know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. August 24, 2016

**Author's Note:**

> Trying this out. Maybe it'll stick. It probably will not. I'm bad at keeping promises to myself. Anyway, here goes:

It's been a long day. Technically it isn't even today anymore. As I write this, it is 2:02 am on August 25th. I just ate a banana and blueberry english muffin with honey. Still working on me tea, though. Lady Grey. Decaf. Wish I had Earl Grey, but I guess I have to take what is given to me. I'm not a writer, never have been. Yes, I am a very good writer in school, but I simply can never bring myself to finish a piece that is not mandatory for my career. Oh, if my schoolmates knew how much I abhor writing. Actually, I love writing. Release. Release without the baggage of anyone knowing my true problems; release without having to actually bare my self to anyone and let them flay open my mind and body. I dearly hope that my friend never finds this. However, at the same time, I wish she would. I wish my family would. The people who think they know me. Especially the people I am forced to attend school with every day, who have no idea who I truly am. People apparently believe me to be stuck-up. Sorry for enjoying the socratic method. Sorry for trying to squeeze out every bit of knowledge I can glean from public schooling (US), while attempting to do the minimal amount of work required. In all honesty, I'm not actually angry or upset with these people. Truthfully, I do not care about them one bit. However, with the thought of school approaching, and all the summer work I put off until the last minute, and dealing with the constant pressure of deciding which "higher education" institute I will spend the next four years of my life, how after this year I will be hemorrhaging money to institutions that do not fully grasp my actual intellect and ability, and with the knowledge that my family does not support my dreams, I'm slightly bitter. Not slightly, in fact. Pretty bitter. I'm pretty bitter. Which is funny, because I do not feel one ounce of prettiness in my body, currently. I may as well just keep it at bitter. Full-stop. But I'm to bitter to just let one word describe me right now.

Bitterness. Oh, how I wish this made the heart grow fonder. Instead, I will be left in a silent stage of anger while the bitterness plateaus, then eventually erupts like volcanic ash and sends me into a horrible stage of sadness and regret for my bitterness. This cycle, which I like to call, "The full [my name here] experience," has progressively been snowballing to become shorter and shorter in its stages, which I am sure will then result in a complete emotional breakdown and panic attack sometime around early October. Would I be surprised if this occurred before the expected day? Absolutely not. Would I be surprised if this occurred later? Not possible, because the inevitable worry about when my breakdown could occur would force me into a deep state of emotional trauma.

I'm tired. I just want to get back to reading. The reading, of course, would obviously be anything but my school-assigned readings. But I want to relax. Essays are due September 2nd, and school starts September 6th. Still have to figure out what I am doing for my senior ID. I wonder if I could dress as Harambe. Well, I'm bored, so I'm going to finish with this. Have I actually said all I needed to say about this day? No. But please forgive me, for it is 2:24 am on August 25th, my tea mug is empty, and I have no desire to keep typing about myself.


	2. August 25, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't proofread what I write. Ever. Too boring and time consuming. I would say enjoy, but how is this at all enjoyable content? Anyways, I present to you, my faithful reader, the second day of my emotionally-fucked up ramblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here lies another insight to my mind. RIP to my mental health

I almost forgot about this. Not surprised, though, really at all, that I almost bailed after just one day. But I guess I should keep trying. I'd really like to see if I actually could stick with something for once in my life.  Whatever. 

I had band today. Got extremely sweaty. I hate the heat. One of the main reasons I'd like to go to the UK. Sweaters are my jam. But now I still smell like sweat. It's 2:01 am on the 26th. I wish I didn't smell. But I'm too lazy to shower. My hair mainly is the biggest problem. I hate when it gets sweat in it. 

[Insert name here] moved into her dorm today. Yesterday I started to cry a bit, but then forced myself to stop after a few seconds. I wonder if she actually misses me. Like I truly wonder if I'm more than just a "good" friend. I don't mean in the relationship sense, I just wish I knew if she considers me to be her best friend. I truly do hope so, even though it is highly improbable. It is becoming a common trend in my life that I care for people much more than they actually care for me. Maybe that's just overly-caring doctorly instincts. I hope it's not motherly, even though I know I'm basically a mom. I would be a good mom, too, but the thought of having to take care of children for 18 years is horrifying and extremely daunting. Maybe I'm being redundant; maybe I'm not. However, back to my point, I just wish I had affirmations of how people feel for me. I feel like she's going to dump me as a friend and only reconnect when she has no one else to do anything with on breaks. Is this what growing up feels like? Having your closest friends just turn into friends of convenience? I guess this is why I want to constantly travel. Then, I would never be able to get too attached, and hopefully a million half-assed friendships can compensate my desire for a true best friend that is with me through everything. 

I wonder if I will ever share this with anyone. Maybe I should show my psychologist, because Lord knows I never open up to her. I think my problems are pretty transparent when instead of talking to her about my crippling anxiety like she was hired to do, I deflect and try to fill our sessions completely with just superficial updates on my life. Maybe I will share this with ~~my soulmate~~ the person I end up sharing most of my life with. I wish I had a soulmate, and there was some sort of marker indicating when I met them or who it was. Maybe my life turns from greys into color, maybe I have a kismet mark, their name tattooed around my wrist, or even the first words they will ever say to me somewhere on my body in a place of significance. Sometimes I truly wish our world had a bit more fiction. 

I'm going to bed. Is this even a diary anymore? I really never share any actual events that occur throughout my days. Whatever. Have fun. We'll see what tomorrow actually brings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need a name for my readers, if there ever are any. Maybe I'll think of one.


	3. August 26, 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 and I'm still at it

It's been a decent day. I did not accomplish any work, however. I can't wait until I finish my stuff. I don't even have time to be writing this, given that it is 2:45 am on August 27th and I have to wake up at 7:30 am for mini camp. One thing I will take the time to write down, though, is how I've noticed a change in my sexuality. Even though I have always been a firm supporter for the LGBTQA+ community (yes, I did the long one), I have never fully accepted my own sexuality. I've always known how hard it is for people in the community, and even though I have always supported people expressing themselves and loving who they want, I have always had it ingrained in my mind that the only good "deal" I could get from life is being heterosexual and being firm in the stance of identifying as the gender typically correlated to my assigned sex.

I remember back in the 5th grade, when I frequently was terrified that people would assume I was a lesbian. I didn't want to be a lesbian. Kissing girls was weird. But in my usual fashion, I liked to "dress like my brothers" (I stole a few of their old t-shirts) and was "butch" (I had no desire to do "girly" things even though I was a cheerleader) so I naturally assumed people would label me as a lesbian and then ostracize me. I was never really "butch" and followed no habits that people stereotyped as "lesbian." However, I harbored an enormous fear that my peers would find a way to hate me, and nothing was truly worse to me than that at that point of my life. Nevermind that I was constantly harassed by my "friends" about my intelligence, with them yelling at me and berating me for getting great grades on quizzes and tests; nevermind that my "friends" harassed me about my weight and at most of my comments would target me and say, "Emily, you're fat" and make me feel like I was worthless; nevermind that no matter how nice and polite I was, my "friends" would throw me under the bus under false pretenses and try to get me in trouble even though I was trying to cover for them--my life would be ruined if someone decided to label me as the dreaded  _ **lesbian.**_  When I look back on this now, I can acknowledge that this was most likely the start of my mental health problems. Yes, I have always strived to fit in with America's culture of overtly sexual heteronormativity, but that was only really a slight insecurity. When I was young, there never was a such thing as gay people, as far as I knew. So, when all my friends in the 1st grade never stopped talking about their huge crushes on Jesse McCartney, of course I joined in. I did not find him "cute" one bit, but I just assumed that if a person was not horrifying in appearance that you were supposed to find them attractive. At that age, no one really bothers you if you don't have "crushes." However, as I grew older, I still had yet to ever develop a crush on anyone I had ever seen, and my worries about fitting in significantly increased. 

In middle school, I still never got a crush. I really only found someone attractive about a year ago. However, ever since the 5th grade, when I tried to deny a sexuality that had no basis to be established, I started trying to invent crushes. I would look at famous male celebrities that most people called attractive and forcibly tell myself that I found them attractive, too. This was an extremely hard time for me. I won't get into my middle school years now, because that is a LONG story about my worst emotional moments and I simply do not have time for that, but I may revisit it one day. At the end of my 8th grade year, there was a boy in my section in marching band who was a senior. He was extremely average looking. Of course, in typical "me" fashion, I forced myself to develop some "crush" on him. Yes, he's an average guy, but I think what mainly appealed to me was that he could possibly be my first true crush. That obviously did not happen. After months of telling myself I was in love with him, I gave up. It's really hard to feel something for someone you have no feelings for. 

I am proud to say, however, that I did eventually develop a crush for a boy. After years and years of trying to force it, I found a guy on twitter who was cute and extremely funny and witty and had a great sense of humor. We are mutuals, and I still love his posts. I don't really have a thing for him anymore, though. I still love his tweets and snapchats, but I guess I just got bored of his beard. Then came another guy on twitter. THE guy. He's extremely attractive. My friends all think he has a big nose, but I love his whole self. His selfies just make me a bit more fond of him I guess. Then came a girl. "I just really like her style and want to look exactly like her!" _No Emily, you like this girl. You think she is cute in that way_. I eventually accepted it, and moved on. 

Along came a girl on tumblr. She is brilliant, funny, cute, amazing, and adorable. I feel like I love her. Do I talk to her? No. However, her videos are amazing and I have never been more intrigued by someone's thoughts before. She is the first girl that I have not denied my attraction to. She will always have an important place in my heart.

You may be wondering what the point of this has been. There isn't really a point. As I've said, this is my diary, and I will write whatever I feel like writing. 

Back to my main point, though. I feel like I am starting to finally be "out". Only a small handful of people know that I'm not straight, but even letting those people know through indirect means was like pulling out my own teeth. I'm still extremely insecure about letting others know about my sexuality, even though I truly have no right to be. If people ask, though, I will say that I'm "not straight." I still refuse to label myself, especially since I know that I could possibly be even more marginalized if I assign the label that I believe myself to be.

However, on this day, I have had a breakthrough. I am "not straight", and even though I would like to deny it, I like both girls and boys, and there is nothing wrong with that. I am who I am, and I am extremely proud to be me. 


	4. August 27, 2016

I am way too tired, so I will not write much today. I just feel like I should at least post something every day, even if it is the weather report.

There was a mini camp today. In the morning I ran basics and we did a bs music block. It was pretty lit, especially since I did not sweat once in that morning. Plus, we had to pack up early because the building alarms were being set at 2:30, so we ended at 2 instead of 3. 

I'm going to fall asleep, so that's all I have. XO


	5. August 31, 2016

Sometimes I just wish I could remove all the people from my life and live with my cat by ourselves. Just me, my laptop, some books, and a delivery service for the stuff I need. I just can't handle this constant emotional stress. I don't think I'm a bad person. I hate the constant distrust. I hate the constant disrespect. I hate living with all these people. I just want to be happy. That's really all I want. It doesn't even take that much. I just want to be happy.

I don't need money or wealth.

If I'm not going to be loved and appreciated, then I just want to be alone. I hate this. So. Much.

If I did not have a clear path for what I want to do for my school and career, I don't think I would carry on. I'd feel so bad for my mom, but it really is just so hard sometimes. It is so hard, and I hate it.

If there is a god, all I ask of is this: please give me peace. Peace from these constant tortures. I don't know how much I will be able to handle, but please help. All I want is to be happy. Please, please, please, let me be happy. 

I just don't know how much more I can take. 


	6. October 23, 2016

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry

Sometimes I feel so much like a coward.

By the way, sorry for not writing in like forever. I don't have much of a reason other than life and school and college and band and everything got in the way. It's not really even an excuse. I should be able to deal with it. But I can't.

So that leaves me here. Writing. It is 12:06 am on the 24th. I'm supposed to be doing a psych project. It's easy as hell, though. I just really wanted to write. I've felt guilty for not doing it in such a long time. I mean, it's not like it really matters too much because no one reads this. I do hope, though, that one day, maybe when I commit myself to someone who is even just a friend that is promised to me forever, that maybe I will finally be brave enough to share this with them. Maybe I will even share it with my current best friend. But I don't know. This really exposes the weird stuff that I think. I don't want pity or distance. I want it to be blown off. But whatever. Back to what I actually came to write about.

I always wonder if I would ever actually kill myself. Like really. If I did, I would want to warn people around me so that they can have their final conversations with me and stuff. I feel like that wouldn't work, though, because people would try to convince me not to do it or would put me in a hospital. At least I hope. Maybe everyone would just say "Finally!" and let me go. It wouldn't necessarily be suicide in my mind. I would just put a certain sequence to an end. It wouldn't really matter. 

This came to thought because I was thinking about what would be of my life if I couldn't be a doctor. I really think I would. But I would ask a doctor first. I love them. They would tell me not to, but then I would truly have to ask them what they would do without their job. "Exactly". I feel like this is so "Watson" of me. Like I really would go through with it if I couldn't do the one dream career I have worked my whole life for. 

I have to go work on school. It's getting late, and I really have stuff to do. I'm obviously not anywhere near done with this topic, but maybe I need to stop crying for a bit and actually try to not fail school. 


End file.
